Love & Lies
by Charlene Heo
Summary: Makoto Tachibana's a faithful detective, working with Matsuoka Rin at the downtown 27th precinct. Seijuurou Mikoshiba is a paid assassin, spy and saboteur working for a dangerous criminal organisation that spans out worldwide. One 'fateful' night, the two cross paths, and a dangerous relationship begins.


**Author's Note:** This was widely inspired by the Alex Rider series, and Ran Kuruta (who widely motivated me to write more for Seikoto/SeiMako on Twitter). I love the world of espionage, weapon and danger! So I decided to bring my OTP into it. I hope you enjoy crime, mystery and action as much as I do!

ENJOY!

* * *

**Love & Lies  
**_Written by Charlene Heo_

* * *

Makoto sighed, and eyed his partner – Rin Matsuoka – warily.

The latter had been kicking up a fuss for the past fifteen minutes about their encounter with the coast guards regarding the body discovered the previous evening.

It was a fresh new murder case for the two detectives, regarding the murder of young Anna Marie, a student from the local high school. _That_ should've been their priority… but instead, Rin was throwing a fit at the argument he had with the coast guard Haruka Nanase, who was, incidentally, also Makoto's childhood and best-friend.

"What the fuck was that _face_ he was giving me? And that _attitude_!" Rin went on, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis. Makoto sighed, nervously rapping his fingers on his desk (he was doing paperwork for the clearance they would need at the forensics department to examine the body).

"He's not all that bad, Rin! Really! Haru's just a little… blank…?" Makoto struggled to find a proper word for his friend's emotionless character, but failed and shrugged, trying to return his attention to the form he was filling up.

Rin noted this and rolled his eyes at his partner, crossing his arms.

"You don't need to be so serious about _paperwork_, Makoto. Everybody already makes fun of you for it."

"Even so," Makoto looked up, a calm smile on his features. "They're the ones who pull all-nighters after duty when their reports are due the next day. Isn't better to just get it done while you can?"

"… You remind me of my mother sometimes."

"_H-Hey_!"

A loud explosion cut their conversation short, rattling the tables and windows and papers and chairs were sent sprawling all over the floor. Makoto yelped as the floor shook violently, the bowl of goldfish Haru had gotten him nearly falling over the edge of his desk. Rin reacted fast and managed to grab it, and handed it to Makoto, who gave him a grateful smile. The impact slowed almost immediately, and the two detectives were able to recover their composure.

Makoto placed the bowl securely in the middle of his desk and the two simultaneously reached for their guns – stand issue Grach MP-443, 9x19 Parabellum – and rushed to the door, Rin peering out into the corridor first, gun raised.

"Do you think it's another prankster?" The redhead hissed, eyes narrowed at the memory of that cock-faced brat who set off a bomb around the back door as revenge for throwing his whore-girlfriend in the holding center.

"I-I don't know, Rin. That was pretty loud for a prank's worth of plastic explosive!" Makoto said worriedly. He hoped the rest of the night-shift workers were alright. The precinct was less-guarded at night; with more electronic security measures such as cameras and electric fences activated to compensate for the officers who were required elsewhere… the night was peak time for crime.

They moved quickly to where they heard the blast from, Makoto heaving a sigh in relief after seeing that the walls were still intact. That meant the others were probably alright. Hurrying up the B staircase, Rin noticed thanks to the flickering white lights that the walls sprouted more cracks as they ascended.

Well the bomb had been set off from somewhere above them, that was for damn sure.

Finally, they reached the faded metal-blue door leading to the roof. Rin raised his foot and delivered a swift blow to the lock, and it smashed open easily, the redhead's strength nearly ripping it off the hinges. Apparently it had been unlocked already, Makoto noted with a nervous chuckle.

Rin frowned and shushed him, sharply edging out into the open, his gun raised like they had been taught back at the Police Academy. It was empty, the rooftop holding only the protruding air-vent and occasional rotors for the air-conditioning. Even the air was still, a stale scent wafting against their noses from the gutters below. There were a few cigarette stubs littered on the floor near the edge, but other than that, the place looked completely untouched.

How was this possible? There should have been an indication as to where the damage had originated from…

As if to answer Rin's question, something silver zipped past Makoto's neck, grazing his tanned skin. It cut a thin line diagonally, drawing blood. The brunet winced at the sharp, stinging pain and lifted a hand to clasp the wound, both of the detectives swiftly turning around with the guns raised to whoever had been shooting.

Then they saw it− the dent in the concrete of their precinct building, above the B staircase's exit, the huge cracks snaking along the walls behind them, nearly invisible in the dark. A small amount of black smoke was floating up into the night sky, only noticeable thanks to the streetlights and the dim moonlight that pierced through the clouds.

A man stood to the left of the bomb-site, his hand gripping a Beretta M9 semiautomatic, with a silencer attached. No wonder they hadn't heard the gun go off. Rin growled. If the stranger had been a centimeter closer to the right, he would have managed to kill Makoto with a single shot.

"What the hell are doing?! Drop the gun and get down from there with your hands behind your back!" Rin barked, despite knowing it wouldn't work. After all, the man had intended to _kill_ Makoto. There was no way he was going to give into an officer's demands.

… But shockingly, the man complied.

It was odd, watching this _dangerous_ and lean man move with the grace of a ballerina, the gloved hand slipping the Beretta pistol into a holster by his hip in milliseconds. The stranger leapt off the raised concrete and landed directly in front of them with amazing precision, inches away from Makoto and Rin. He was tall, taller than Makoto even, and wearing a black mask covering the lower-half of his face. He also donned a black turtleneck hidden beneath a bullet-proof vest and cargo pants tucked into combat boots. His hair was hidden beneath a beanie pulled over his head all the way over his eyebrows, leaving only his eyes and ears exposed.

The movement was so sudden it took Rin 2 seconds to fully comprehend that this fucker actually had the balls to come so close to _detectives_ despite having set off a bomb above the fucking police precinct minutes before. But his slow response had cost him, and the man's left fist shot up, swiftly knocking Rin out with a single uppercut that sent him flying centimeters up, then come crashing back down on the cold hard concrete floor. Rin's body crumpled in a heap, unconscious. The blow must have been so great, his brain had been jolted.

Makoto sprung back, eyes wide and pistol clenched tight, ready to fire if necessary (though he hated having to shoot, it was unavoidable as part of his job).

But once again, the man got the better of them both, grabbing Makoto's wrist and twisting it sharply, causing the brunet to yelp and release the gun in pain. His feet were swept out from under him before he could retaliate and suddenly the man was above him, the Beretta's cold nozzle pressing against his forehead and the lower half of his body secured by the taller man's stronger legs.

Makoto squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for imminent death.

2 seconds. 5 seconds.

… Nothing happened.

Makoto cracked an eye open, then slowly both eyes, anxious forest-green irises sweeping over the man's torso (which was covered by the bullet-proof vest), slowly up to his masked face. The man's gun was still cold – terribly so – against his head, now coated with cold-sweat.

But he did not shoot.

Why?

Makoto looked into the man's eyes, trying to find the answer.

He felt a shiver as he noticed the man's eyes were bright amber, almost predatory in nature, staring – no, _glaring_ – into his soul. The brunet shivered, unable to conceal his fear. The man's presence radiated control and sheer dominance. Makoto knew he was at the complete mercy of this dangerous yet strangely enthralling man.

The stranger raised a gloved hand, the long leather-covered fingers brushing against the flesh-wound that had been caused by his own gun moments ago. The appendages were cold, contrasting his heated skin from the adrenaline and fear. The blood had stained the collar of his white shirt now, and the man rubbed the outline of the diagonal line-mark gently, as if to apologise for what he had done.

Makoto was shaken, confused and angry, all at the same time. This was no ordinary prankster; he had no doubt about that. The man possessed skill, stealth and… there was coldness in his eyes, eyes that had overseen the deaths of many, the cruelty of the world.

Those were the eyes of a killer, a hardened criminal. The detective had seen eyes like those many times before during interrogation, but unlike the other convicts, this man was calm, not blubbering for mercy or swearing at him, threatening murder and revenge.

Makoto looked away, unable to take the intensity of his gaze.

He could feel the well-toned muscles of his assaulter's legs against his trembling thighs, as the man leaned in closer to Makoto, so close that Makoto was almost sure he could hear the steady pulse of the other.

"Your name," The voice that passed the mask was deep, husky, laced with steel. It demanded an answer. "Tell me your name."

Makoto shivered as the warm breath blew past the thin mask and caressed his flushed cheeks. It smelled oddly of peppermint… and _cheeseburgers_? He tried to steady his rapidly thumping heart, and slowly looked back into the man's amber eyes. They were like a hawk's… so glaring… it made his heartbeat speed up even more, not helping his bravado at all.

"M-Makoto… Makoto Tachibana." The brunet squeaked, cursing himself inwardly for his cowardly tone.

'_God, Makoto! Why can't you be a manly-man like Rin for once?_' He chided at himself mentally.

The man's harsh gaze softened, and were tinged with what Makoto dared believe was _amusement_. He was about to say something – Makoto could tell from the way the mask stretched along with his jaw – when he was interrupted by the sound of helicopters rapidly approaching the building. The steel blades propelling the armed choppers nearer and nearer still didn't have the same foreboding as the man above him, though.

That was how strong this man's presence was to Makoto. It was all very alarming.

However, unlike Makoto's disregard for the flying vehicles, the man swore− the crude words unsuited to his mysterious persona. He leapt off Makoto, dashing to the edge of the roof which looked down upon the alleyway leading to the south part of town.

His gloved hand gripped the edge, and for a brief moment, he turned back and took another glance at Makoto, who was still flushed and lay half-sprawled on the floor, confused.

Then, he was gone, lifting himself off the edge and throwing himself down into the dark abyss below.

* * *

The next morning, Rin leapt up from his chair and dashed over to Makoto.

He crushed the taller man in a hug.

Makoto blinked, then slowly, his features relaxed into a gentle smile. The other members of the Criminal Affairs Department watched, mesmerized, as Makoto hugged Rin back, even gently stroking the redhead's hair to calm him−

Then Rin drew back and delivered a smack upside Makoto's head, breaking the peaceful setting with a jackhammer.

"WHERE DID YOU GO YESTERDAY− THE MEDIC WASN'T EVEN DONE CHECKING YOUR NECK _YOU FUCKING_−"

"_Rin_!" Makoto shook the redhead's shoulders firmly, and effectively cut the rant short, sparing their colleagues. "I'm _fine_, really! I was just in shock, so Chief let me go home shortly after they found us and scanned the scene."

Unhappy with the answer, Rin growled lowly, his sharp teeth barred. Makoto swallowed uncomfortably. It would suck if Rin ever decided to bite him in spite… the man could have been born a shark in a past life.

"Well you should have stuck around to get professional attention. Did you see a doctor for that?" Rin glanced at the Band-Aid pad covering where the flesh wound had been. It took up nearly the whole side of Makoto's neck, giving the impression of him trying to conceal a vampire bite. Which was ironic, considering the brunet's hatred for the supernatural myths and horror movies.

"_Uh _well, no… I just stuck this on myself before going to bed, but it's not a big deal really, just a little scratch…" Makoto rambled lamely.

Rin narrowed his eyes, and then flicked Makoto on the forehead, causing the latter to yelp in alarm. Really… sometimes Makoto reminded him of a rabbit, all sensitive and easily surprised and _cute_ and shit.

Wait… _cute_?

"_Whatever_!" Rin grunted to himself, though it was unknown to Makoto what he was dissing. "We're going to the med-bay, c'mon! Who knows if the bullet had been poisoned or rusty? You could've gotten an infection."

Rin dragged Makoto by the wrist 'gently', out of the office, much to the amusement of their colleagues.

This was a regular occurrence; overprotective Matsuoka taking charge of his lovely 'partner'.

Soon, they all returned back to work, doing paperwork (and like Makoto said knowingly, many of them looked half-dead) and receiving calls from operators.

Luckily, nothing had been really damaged the previous night except for the structure of stairwell B and the Administrative office. The place was in shambles, debris from the explosion up on the roof causing clumps of cement to fall directly on the wooden desk and cabinets, causing the papers to spill out everywhere and upsetting the electric lights, which had sparked a fire. Which, fortunately, the competent precinct members quickly managed to put out.

The documents had been completely destroyed, though it wasn't a huge loss.

In a way, it was rather odd. It almost seemed as though the explosion was meant for the Administrative office only… but nothing important was concealed there. All their files were backed on a high-security state network, repeatedly encrypted with firewalls and anti-hacking security programming to prevent hackers or spies from gaining access. The hardcopies were merely old records of cold-cases and petty crimes which amounted to little.

So nobody gave it a second thought.

The officials had classified it as a foreign terrorist attack, and were monitoring customs and public transport stations to track down the terrorist who might be trying to flee the country.

The cleaners merely continued working on clearing the mess and the agents returned to their assigned duties.

The day passed on quietly.

* * *

Seijuurou sighed contentedly as he lowered his aching muscles into the hot springs, allowing the water to work their magic on his fatigued, scarred body. He had gotten away in record time, managing to secure the Range Rover his organization had left him to make a clean getaway from the police helicopters lurking around. The vehicle was grey to match the asphalt, which made it harder to spot at night from above.

Now, he was in a private inn two hours away from the city having driven through the night, relaxing and awaiting his manager to arrive.

No sooner had he thought of his manager, the paper sliding doors behind him opened, and in stepped a man in his mid-forties, clutching a steel briefcase. He didn't look very impressive, just like a normal salary man dressed in a suit, glasses and polished dress shoes.

But that was the trick of their whole organization. You could never really pick them out from the rest of the crowd. That was what made them so dangerous. Danger could be staring anybody in the face and they wouldn't know it.

"Ah, you're here," Seijuurou drawled, a lazy smirk on his lips. "I've got the _gift_, just like our client wanted."

"Well done." The other man praised, though his voice was bland and void of any pleasure. It was a dry compliment to keep Seijuurou happy. He walked over to the white envelope the redhead was pointing at, along the edge of the water, on a footstool. It had been placed there even while the redhead was relaxing, he observed.

Good. Mikoshiba had been trained well. Never to let the objective out of sight, man or object. The executives would be pleased with this report; Mikoshiba was one of their top 'agents' and he was steadily making his way up to the very highest.

He reached down and picked it up with gloved fingers, leaving the briefcase in its place.

"As usual, here's your payment. Fifteen grand in cash… I'll be in contact regarding any future assignments."

And he simply walked out, polished dress shoes clumping against the pebbled floor.

There were no pleasantries normally exchanged between the members of this nefarious organization – or crime syndicate, as you might have guessed – for nobody really trusted the other. They had all similar goals. Money, power and fear… those were the things the members sought after and used to get their way.

They had branches all over the world, mostly concentrated in Russia, Japan, Thailand and America. Feared in all the continents, _Phoenix_ was definitely not an organization you'd want to trifle with.

Seijuurou eyed the steel briefcase happily, mentally adding the sum to the amount in his Swiss bank account in his head. Soon, he would have enough money to take a vacation somewhere in Europe… maybe for a month.

All these assignments were taking a toll on him. He fully needed a vacation. He wanted to be happy and handsome, not gunned down and grey.

Grey… like the colour of the concrete yesterday night…

Seijuurou thought back to that beautiful brunet he had encountered the previous night. Men and women like him didn't bother with the gender of their supposed 'lovers' – or _one-night stands_ – because they simply couldn't afford to.

With an unstable and high-risk job like his, you had to take whoever was available to release any pent-up _you-know-what_.

But that man yesterday… he was something else, not just temporary attraction. Those green eyes were _fucking gorgeous_, and he had felt so _right_ with the brunet pressed up against him.

Makoto Tachibana… huh.

There was something familiar about him, too. Maybe they had been lovers in a past life, Seijuurou chuckled to himself at the thought.

And the way he had shivered and squeaked was perfectly compatible to his dominating character, the redhead thought gleefully to himself. He hoped he would be able to look this guy up sometime soon, without the mask this time.

He had been using his 'working voice' yesterday after all – another security measure to keep their identities concealed – and he doubted the other would be able to recognize him in casual dress. From a cold-blooded assassin to a cheeky playboy, a switch that wimpy cop surely wouldn't be able to pick out!

The assassin chuckled to himself as he slunk deeper into the water, stretching his well-muscled arms along the edge of the pool to prevent himself from submerging completely. His well-defined physique was something he had been unconsciously developed after his initial training, and he was proud of it, despite all the scars scattered across his rippling back and the bullet wound on his lower abdomen.

He looked forward to showing off his true face to that Tachibana – who was basically _begging_ to be teased and devoured – and so he decided to plan out their next 'coincidental' meeting later.

Right now, he wanted to enjoy the rare atmosphere of peace in his fast-paced life.

He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the warm rock, listening to the occasional _thunk_ of the bamboo tap.

* * *

_Your feedback is greatly appreciated and anticipated._


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